


Here Come the Wedding Bells

by C6H12O6 (killjoycatlady)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Getting Together, Growing Up, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Present Tense, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoycatlady/pseuds/C6H12O6
Summary: Over the course of the years, Kenma and Tetsurou have attended several weddings together.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 52
Kudos: 357





	Here Come the Wedding Bells

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I started this fic, I shit you not, two years ago, and finished it just recently. I think I managed to capture the same spirit I had for this fic, though. 
> 
> Several disclaimers: I know little about Japanese or Western weddings, and I did as much research as possible and appropriate for a 10k one-shot. I haven't watched the recent season or read much of the correlated manga pages, so if there are any details in there that contradict parts of my fic, I hope you'll forgive me. I took some creative liberties with some legal details- to my knowledge, in Japan, married couples have to file under a singular family name, but I didn't mess with that because I heavily associate characters' last names with them and usually refer to them by last name as in the show. Also, I tagged it as 5+1, because it is (five times kuroken attended someone's wedding, one time they attend their own), but it's not formatted exactly as such. 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy :)

** Here Come the Wedding Bells **

Tetsurou attends his first wedding when he’s eight years old. His mother’s cousin is marrying some lawyer in a fancy venue in an expensive neighborhood in Tokyo. Tetsurou’s fitted in a small tux, and his parents coo at him, to which Tetsurou scrunches his nose at, because he’s a big boy- he’s handsome, not cute.

When they arrive at the venue, it’s already quite filled up, and Tetsurou is taken back by just how many people there are. His shoulders draw up towards his head, even though he isn’t shy by any means.

His mother nudges him through the tall legs of people, and every so often, they stop to exchange polite greetings, with his mother shooting him stern looks every so often that quite clearly say “ _Be polite, Tetsurou, and say hi”._

His mother and her cousin are close, close enough that it doesn’t take too long after the bride and groom to enter the venue for the bride to come up to them and start chatting with his mother.

“You’ve grown up so much since the last time we saw you, Tetsu-chan,” she fawned over him. “You look so handsome in your suit!”

Tetsurou disagrees. He’s too young to care if he’s handsome or not, but the suit is stifling and hot, and he has to take too much care not to get it dirty, and he wishes he could just come in a t-shirt like he would to one of his classmate’s parties (adults are weird, he decides). He doesn’t disagree, just says thanks when his mother squeezes his hand.

“The poor thing must be bored, isn’t he?” The bridge clucks at his mother, who denies it vehemently even though all three of them know better. “Well, I’m sure he can make friends. Come, Tetsu-chan, I’ll introduce you.”

The bride leads them through the guests in spite of his mother’s protests that they were fine, _“really, don’t go through the trouble”_ and takes them to where a woman sits at a table, with her husband and some other people Tetsurou doesn’t know. She looks short but kind, and Tetsurou straightens up because he knows that he should make a good first impression on people, according to his mom.

“Kozume-san,” the bridge says earnestly. “Kozume-san, where is your son? I want to introduce him to Tetsurou.” Turning to Tetsurou’s mother, she continues, “Kozume-san and her family live close to you guys, actually!”

“Nice to meet you,” Tetsurou says in a rehearsed voice. Kozume-san gives him a smile and Tetsurou feels a burst of satisfaction.

“He’s sitting over there.” She nods towards a corner of the venue and her expression flickers, though she doesn’t stop smiling. She looks at Tetsurou and leans down. “He’s quiet, but you can talk to him, okay Tetsurou-kun?”

“Okay,” Tetsurou agrees. How bad can it be?

The bride, with him and his mother in tow, takes him to where Kozume-san’s son is supposed to be. Tetsurou almost doesn’t notice him at first, because he’s small, sitting hunched over something in his hands, partially hidden in a shadow of an unused chair.

“Kenma-kun,” the bride says gently. This boy, Kenma, glances up, and his gold eyes widen at Tetsurou.

“This is Tetsurou.” Tetsurou’s mom nudges him forward. The bride smiles at them. “Try to keep each other company, okay?”

“Okay,” Tetsurou repeats. Kenma says nothing but looks back down at what Tetsurou can now see is a gaming device in his hands.

When the bride and his mother leave, he walks forward. Tetsurou tends not to feel shy around other kids, so he says, “Hi. I’m Tetsurou.”

Kenma doesn’t face him, but Tetsurou can see movement from his eyes flicking upwards, and quiet words that say, “I’m Kenma.”

Tetsurou steps forward, hesitant, because Kenma makes no moves of inviting him into…whatever he’s doing. Kenma looks invested, with gold eyes glued to a screen and bright colours flickering across his eyes.

“What’s that?” Tetsurou asks in order to make conversation, because he can feel his mother’s piercing stare burning through his back. He points to Kenma’s device.

Kenma shifts, curling tighter into himself. “It’s a portable game console.” He says each word slowly and carefully, as if he’s trying to pronounce them correctly.

“Can I see?”

Kenma blinks up at him owlishly, mouth pressed in a thin line. Tetsurou, unsure of what to do, stares back. After a few moments, Kenma nods slowly. Tetsurou grins triumphantly and moves forward. He sits next to Kenma, who seems to lean away slightly, and peers down at the _game console._ Kenma’s thumbs flick the controls and click away at the colourful buttons, as a pixelated man hurls balls of orange at what appears to be some cross between a crab and a beetle.

Tetsurou doesn’t interrupt as Kenma continues the fight, the glowing green bar at the bottom of the screen growing smaller and smaller until the crab-beetle sinks to the ground in obvious.

“Cool,” Tetsurou says happily. “You’re good!”

Kenma’s shoulders straighten. He turns to Tetsurou, facing him fully for the first time since they met, and his lips quirk up. “Yeah.”

“Play another level,” Tetsurou says. He thinks that watching this game is as entertaining and colourful as the TV shows that his mom barely lets him watch, and he likes the strange noises the man and crab-bug make when they get hit.

Kenma nods. This time, he rests his hands against his knee so that Tetsurou doesn’t have to stretch his neck.

Tetsurou continues to watch and makes small noises of satisfaction when Kenma lands a particularly difficult hit. By the time Kenma finishes the next level (and this one’s a hard one), his curious fingers are itching for an attempt at playing.

“Can I try?” he asks, probably leaning too far into Kenma person, because his nose brushes against Kenma’s hair and he fights the urge to sneeze.

Kenma draws back and gives him a look full of skepticism.

“I promise to do well,” Tetsurou says solemnly, placing a hand over his chest.

Kenma visibly hesitates, glancing back and forth between his device and Tetsurou. Eventually, he says, “Fine. Don’t drop it.”

Tetsurou takes the game player gingerly, weighing it in his hands and awkwardly navigating the controls so he can go to the next level. He clicks start and tries to copy what Kenma made look so easy.

After a few seconds, block letters appear on the screen: _GAME OVER_

Kenma lets out a noise that’s almost a giggle. “You’re terrible.”

Tetsurou makes a face and then hands it back to Kenma. “Then teach me.”

Kenma squints at him. Then, he nods.

.

.

Kenma and Tetsurou meet each other again a few days later when Tetsurou’s heading back home in his school bus. They go to the same elementary school and live on the same street. Soon, Kozume-san calls Tetsurou’s mother and they meet one day and spend the whole time holding brief conversation about school and playing video games. Soon, they’re hanging out every day, and by the time Tetsurou’s ten years old, he’s convinced Kenma to come outside and toss to him for a new sport he’s discovered called “volleyball”.

They end up going to the same middle school together. Tetsurou joins the boys’ volleyball team and Kenma refuses to, but he stills tosses for Tetsurou after school. He’s good. Neither of them gets bored of spending hours together, Tetsurou watching Kenma play video games that get progressively more complex.

Tetsurou goes to Metropolitan Nekoma High, which has a good STEM program and a nationals-level volleyball team. Unsurprisingly, a year later, Kenma joins him. This time, he joins volleyball, and Tetsurou builds a team that goes to nationals. Kenma spends countless hours beating Tetsurou at video games and Tetsurou spends countless hours watching him play and complaining that he should get some more sleep.

.

.

Kenma’s mother is getting remarried. Tetsurou knows this before anyone else does, because Kenma’s been stressing about his mother’s boyfriend since he entered high school and now his worst fears are confirmed and they’re getting married and he tells this to Tetsurou in a panicky conversation that happens when Kenma escapes to Tetsurou’s house after his mother breaks the news.

“You’ll be fine,” Tetsurou says, twirling a strand of Kenma’s blond hair between his fingers.

“Kuro, what if he’s horrible.” Kenma mumbles this into his hands.

“You’ve known him for, what, three years? He’s not horrible,” Tetsurou says patiently. “He gives you space and treats you both okay, right?”

“Yes,” Kenma admits.

“Then you’ll be fine,” Tetsurou repeats.

“I’m stuck with him for a whole year.”

Tetsurou refrains from rolling his eyes, even though he smiles fondly. “Don’t worry. You still have your mom, and the team…” _And me,_ he wants to say, but he’s going to college on the other side of Tokyo to where they live, and he doesn’t pretend that he can always be physically there for Kenma. “You can always call me if it gets too much,” he settles on saying.

Kenma makes a defeated noise that lets Tetsurou know that he’s accepting it only because he has no choice.

The wedding is held a few weeks before Tetsurou leaves for college. He’s a lot more comfortable in a suit than he was when he was eight, and he isn’t wearing a ridiculous bow tie this time, which is always a plus.

He isn’t invited to the religious ceremony at the shrine, for obvious reasons, but he persuades his parents to get to the actual party as early as possible, for Kenma’s sake. Kenma finds formalities irritating and weddings, unfortunately, are full of them, so when Tetsurou spots him at the party making small talk with an elderly lady, it’s no surprise that his eyes scream “help me” when he notices Tetsurou.

Tetsurou sidles up to Kenma and greets the lady politely, bowing and then placing a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. The lady smiles at them in a grandmotherly way and then tells them to “run off and have fun”.

“Thanks for that,” Kenma says once she leaves. “People keep trying to _talk to me_.” He’s dressed in a dark blue, almost black suit, with a plain tie- unassuming, like Kenma dresses. The only thing that stands out, is his hair, dyed blond with the roots growing out in brown. The suit, Tetsurou notes absently, hugs Kenma’s body a lot more than his usual outfits do. He looks…nice.

(Not that Kenma doesn’t usually look nice, because Tetsurou’s known Kenma way too long to think that Kenma doesn’t always look nice, but this is a different kind of nice, because Tetsurou notices is instead of accepting the nice look as something that’s just a constant of Kenma.)

“That’s how it is when you’re the bride’s son,” Tetsurou tells him gravely. “But hey, I’m here now.”

Kenma unravels his arms and his shoulders seem less tense. Tetsurou’s stomach does a flip of victory.

“I guess.”

Tetsurou steps forward. “You crumpled your suit.” He tugs at the lapels of Kenma’s suit, pulling his forward so that Tetsurou can flatten out the creases that were made when Kenma was hunched over.

Kenma blinks up at him, but allows Tetsurou to continue. Their eyes meet, and Tetsurou’s mouth goes dry. Confused, he makes the final adjustment to Kenma’s jacket and steps back.

“You’re one to talk,” Kenma says, breaking the silence. “Have you seen your hair?”

Tetsurou gasps. “ _Kenma_.”

“Did you bother combing it?”

“Kenma! I did my best.”

Kenma snorts and flicks away a piece of hair that was practically dangling over Tetsurou’s eye. The motion makes Tetsurou’s heart twist and he wonders if he ate anything strange today and hopes he isn’t coming down with a cold.

“Clearly that wasn’t enough.” A smile plays at Kenma’s lips, not wide enough to _really_ be considered a smile, but it means a lot, on Kenma. “Come on.”

“Where to?” Tetsurou asks, puzzled.

“The table.” Kenma points over to the long table that sits at the head of the venue, where people- like Kenma’s grandmother, and someone who looks like Kenma’s now step-uncle- are sitting.

“Isn’t that for, like, your family and stuff?” Tetsurou frowns at Kenma.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “I know that. I asked my mom if you could sit with me.”

“And she agreed?”

“She knows I’d get bored otherwise.”

Tetsurou grins at Kenma while trying to decipher the knot in his stomach. “Are you implying that I entertain you, Kenma?”

Kenma rolls his eyes again, which Tetsurou takes pleasure in, because it’s hard to elicit even a display of annoyance of that extent from Kenma. “No. Let’s go.”

“Fine, fine,” he drawls, and lets Kenma tug him over to the table.

As much as Tetsurou is happy for Kenma’s mother, the long list of speeches by people he doesn’t really know is, well, boring. He can’t do much more than grin at his mother’s questioning look and nudge Kenma’s foot with his own when he gets antsy.

It’s worth it, though, with the comforting presence beside him and the small smile that appears on Kenma’s face halfway through the party, that reassures him that he’s leaving his best friend in good hands.

.

.

Tetsurou goes to university an hour and a half away from home, studies biochemistry, and makes friends like Sugawara Koushi from Karasuno, who really is a terrible friend because he and Tetsurou accidentally-almost do illegal things, like, twice.

Kenma and he text constantly, and Skype at least once a week. He tries to visit home at least once a month, even though his visits start to dwindle after half-way through the year.

Kenma doesn’t follow him to university.

He goes to a smaller one near Tokyo that has a good computer science program, and Tetsurou can’t even be that upset because Kenma’s discovering what he wants to do in life and who is Tetsurou to fault him for that?

(Tetsurou isn’t oblivious. He doesn’t question the twisting, fluttering feeling that takes over his stomach when his best friend’s face pops up on the screen. He doesn’t deny the swoop in his gut when Kenma lets out a quiet laugh. He doesn’t even protest Suga’s pitying look when he loudly groans into his pillow, one day when the feelings get too much.)

The benefit of Kenma’s university is that it’s much closer to Tetsurou than their neighborhood; the twenty-minute walk means that they go from Skyping every weekend to studying together every weekend, and sleepovers as often as they can, and this doesn’t help Tetsurou’s feelings in any way but it now feels less like he’s missing a limb, and Tetsurou would always pick Kenma’s presence over his ability to think straight anyways.

.

.

Gay marriage is legalized in Japan on August 23, 2026.

Almost a month later, on September 24, 2026, two of Tetsurou’s best friends get married.

It’s only surprising because they’re only 24 years old, barely out of college and barely starting a career. But Bokuto and Akaashi were always meant for each other, Tetsurou supposes, and Akaashi was always a bit reckless when it came to Bokuto, so maybe it makes sense.

Of course, he finds out the underlying reason on the day of the wedding.

Their wedding isn’t a grand affair. Tetsurou goes with them when they sign their papers, because Bokuto’s declared him best man even though they don’t have groomsmen, and Tetsurou is a good best friend (Kenma is also his best friend, but, well. That’s _different_.).

They have a relatively small party in Akaashi’s parents rather big house. Most of the guests are family, plus friends like a good portion of the Fukurodani (ex-)volleyball team, and some others like Lev, and Shorty from Karasuno (Tetsurou doesn’t know how Bokuto’s managed to stay in contact with all these people).

He doesn’t get too drunk, because god knows what would happen if he did- he’d probably stare into Kenma’s eyes for a moment too long, and note the curve of Kenma’s jaw and the slope of his nose and the way he looks _regal_ , mature in a way he didn’t five years ago, and do something stupid like confess his love.

The party only ends at 3 in the morning, by which time Shorty is nearly black-out drunk and Akaashi’s had to call one of his friends—that Karasuno’s ex-number 9, apparently—to drag him safely home, and Lev has stumbled out of the door just half an hour ago after declaring himself too queasy to stay.

“Hey, Kuroo?” Bokuto says, and he’s dressed in a pristine white suit with his arm slung around the love of his life, and he sounds all too serious for the moment. “Can you help me clean up once everyone leaves?”

“Sure,” Tetsurou replies easily, because he’s a kind soul and also because he can slave away for his friend if it means he can enjoy Bokuto one last time before his friend plunges completely into the life of a married man. (Not that Tetsurou thinks that Bokuto would abandon him or that his marriage would shackle him down, but he does know that for the next few weeks Bokuto will be too preoccupied with husband-hood to pay attention to anyone who isn’t Akaashi.)

He turns to Kenma. “Will you…”

“Okay,” Kenma says. His attention is on his phone, and Tetsurou ruffles his hair fondly, dodging Kenma’s half-hearted smack, and turns back to Bokuto.

Sarukui is the last person to leave, and Bokuto and Akaashi send him off with a joyful but tired farewell, with promises to make plans after their honeymoon is over. Then the door snaps shut and it’s only the four of them left amidst empty bottles and crumpled plates and new beginnings.

“We should get started, this place is, no offense, a mess,” Tetsurou says. He bends down to pick up a flattened can of beer.

“Wait, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi interrupts. Tetsurou straightens up, blinking at him questioningly. “We…well, Koutarou and I have to discuss something with you. And Kenma.”

Tetsurou tries to hide the frown tugging at his lips at the uncharacteristic intensity of Akaashi’s gaze. Kenma clearly senses the shift in mood, too, because he looks up and actually puts down his phone.

“Um.” Bokuto tugs at the end of his jacket. “Sit down?”

“What’s going on?” Tetsurou asks, obliging. He slides next to Kenma and exchanges a confused glance with him.

Akaashi takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why Koutarou and I decided to get married so quickly.”

“I…guess?” Tetsurou actually frowns this time. “But it’s not my business, and I know you two are made for each other, so—”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto interjects, “Like, I know what you’re going to say, but let him explain ‘cause this is important.”

Tetsurou falls silent.

Akaashi takes another deep breath and laces his fingers through Bokuto’s.

“I know that we’re young, but the thing is…neither of us have any doubts that we’ll stay together. So we wanted this stability before we took the next step in our lives.”

The conversation is starting to scare Tetsurou now. He briefly wonders if somehow, they managed to accidentally conceive a baby, but dismisses that notion as ridiculous.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asks. “You’re—”

“Kuroo, we’re moving,” Bokuto blurts out.

Tetsurou almost drops the beer can.

Surprisingly, it’s Kenma who breaks the silence. “To where?”

“Well, um…” Bokuto exchanged a glance with Akaashi and a message that Tetsurou and Kenma aren’t privy to is transferred between them. “You know how Keiji’s family owns that whole business right?”

“Yes,” Tetsurou says numbly.

“The plan is for me to take over the United States branch of the company when I’m older,” Akaashi says quietly. “Of course, for that, I have to start working with that branch as soon as possible, so we had decided that I would move to New York after college.”

Tetsurou, for once in his life, is at a loss for what to say. His head is spinning, and he stares at Bokuto and Akaashi like he doesn’t understand the words they’re saying.

“But the thing is,” Akaashi continues calmly. “We hadn’t anticipated me getting together with Koutarou. I’ve been trying to put off leaving as long as I can, but my parents are insistent.”

“Plus,” Bokuto interjects, “It’s a huge opportunity for Keiji, y’know? We thought that now that we can get married and secure our relationship, there’s no point in delaying moving.”

 _No point,_ Tetsurou’s mind echoes, and he wants to argue that their connections, their friends, their life here should be enough to delay it. But Tetsurou is perceptive, and he knows Bokuto and Akaashi better than he knows almost anyone—they’re ready to take the next step, to take flight, to soar into the unknown with their hands intertwined, as a team.

(A small part of him envies the way Bokuto says “we”, as if this matter of Akaashi’s future has always been a joint choice, which, Tetsurou thinks, if you consider the way Akaashi looks at his husband like he hung up the stars, maybe it always was.)

“So you’re moving to the United States,” Tetsurou summarizes. He fixates his eyes onto a spot just over Bokuto’s shoulder because he can’t look at either of them in the face right now. “When?”

“Four months,” Akaashi answers. His hand squeezes Bokuto’s and they exchange another glance, with small smiles curving up on both of their lips. They’re looking forward to this, Tetsurou realizes with somewhat of a shock.

For the first time since they broke the news, a genuine smile crawls onto Tetsurou’s face. “Congratulations,” he says, and even if he has to try not to let his voice tremble, he says it honestly, and sends out a silent wish that they will both live life to the fullest extent possible.

Bokuto grins, a flash of blinding white teeth. “Thanks.”

“You better invite us to your new place,” Tetsurou adds.

“Definitely,” Akaashi says. “Once we settle in.”

“You two will be amazing,” Kenma says quietly, but his eyes shine in a way that Tetsurou knows he’s proud.

Bokuto, if possible, grins wider.

Bokuto and Akaashi offer to let them spend the night, after they finish cleaning up, but Tetsurou and Kenma both refuse simultaneously; the night after their wedding is meant to be a time just for the newlywed couple, and Tetsurou will be damned if he intrudes on their special moment.

They take a late-night train home, and the train car is too bright and too empty. They sit in silence, opposite of each other, their knees knocking together when the train jolts over a rickety track.

“Are you okay?” Kenma asks. Tetsurou’s face is pressed against the window as he stares into the blackness of the tunnel and absently, he wonders how many billions of bacteria must be nesting on his skin right now.

Tetsurou knows that Kenma already knows his answer, but Tetsurou also knows that when Kenma asks a direct question, he expects- no, demands a direct answer.

“I don’t know,” he answers. His voice is as thin as paper; the spikes of emotion that night have left him weary and unable to formulate concise thought.

“You’re happy for them,” Kenma says. It isn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou answers.

“But you’re upset.”

“I just.” Tetsurou rubs at his eyes and tells himself that it’s only sleep. “I’m happy for them. I’m so happy. They’re in love. But they’re leaving, and in a few months I’ll have lost two of my best friends.”

“You’re not losing them,” Kenma says steadily.

“They’ll just be a few thousand miles away,” Tetsurou says. He’s unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Kenma’s foot presses against him, a rare reminder of his presence that somehow sends warmth shooting into Tetsurou’s weak, weak heart. “They’re your friends.”

“They’re our friends,” Tetsurou corrects out of habit. Kenma rolls his eyes but like usual, doesn’t protest.

It goes quiet for a few minutes. Tetsurou basks in Kenma’s presence, unwavering and unassuming; he is, Tetsurou thinks, like oxygen to a human. Then he wonders if the tiredness and heightened emotions have made him deliriously poetic. It wouldn’t be surprising.

“They’re married, though,” Tetsurou says. Points out, rather unnecessarily. “They’re forever.”

“Marriage isn’t always forever,” Kenma says, and Tetsurou internally winces because Kenma’s parents, although both loving and doting parents, split up when he was in primary school. Then Kenma adds, “But they are, probably.”

“Do you think you could do it?” Tetsurou tries to imagine himself in that room, signing the very official looking documents, or exchanging vows and rings in whispers full of love. At first, the person standing next to him has a blurred-out face, but they gradually morph into golden eyes and a round face that are painfully familiar. “Get married, I mean. It’s all very legal, isn’t it?”

“You want to get married,” Kenma counters.

“Would you?” Tetsurou’s heart thuds in his chest and he wonders if he’s more drunk than he thought.

“I don’t know,” Kenma says after a beat. His voice is his usual impartial tone, meaning that his words are true and blunt. “I don’t know who I’d get married to.”

Tetsurou expects the answer, but his heart hurts too much when he hears it.

.

.

They don’t see Bokuto and Akaashi for months after they leave. Tetsurou and Bokuto Skype and text constantly, but time zones and work (Bokuto teaches children at a Japanese community organization, Tetsurou can hardly believe it) make talking for too long difficult.

Tetsurou goes on to do graduate studies in another Tokyo university. Kenma gets a job as a web developer, and it’s a small miracle that they both need to live in the same functional region. The obvious solution is to move in with each other. Tetsurou can hardly sleep the first few nights, knowing that the person he can call, without exaggeration, the love of his life, is lying just a thin wall away.

They’re a part of each other’s life like they never have been before. To Tetsurou, it feels like his life is balanced on thin rice paper, the weight of his feelings piling on top of it, until inevitably, something will break. He dreads the day it does.

.

.

The envelope is made of thick, cream paper. Inside it, is a card, white with delicate gold lettering and a flowery pink stamp. An image is printed onto it, of a glowing couple with their arms around each other, the background a scenery of petals and sunshine.

_Kuroo Tetsurou & Kozume Kenma _

_Have been cordially invited to the wedding_

_Of Sawamura Daichi & Sugawara Koushi_

“I can’t say I didn’t see that one coming,” Tetsurou admits. Kenma hums in accordance.

“They didn’t send separate invitations,” Tetsurou notes. He doesn’t know why that detail stands out to him.

“Why should they?” Kenma asks. Tetsurou has no answer for him.

This wedding is significantly different from the last few Tetsurou has attended for a few different reasons. For one (and he gains this knowledge through a phone call with Suga), it’s almost entirely Western- aside from the initial religious ceremony with their families, the wedding will have an open ceremony where they exchange rings and vows, and then a reception where the best man (Azumane, Tetsurou recalls) gives a speech.

It’s the first wedding in which Tetsurou actually has to travel- it’s held in Hokkaido, where Sawamura and Suga currently live, and it’s an outdoor April wedding, meaning that the cherry blossoms are in bloom.

Also, this is the first one he attends _with_ Kenma. As in, Tetsurou helps Kenma look presentable, and Kenma’s suit fits him very well and Tetsurou feels fumbly and dry-mouthed the entire drive to the park where the wedding takes place.

The venue is beautiful.

Pale petals flutter through the air like butterflies, and the sunshine is crystal clear, with fluffy clouds rolling through the sky. It’s as if the Earth itself is celebrating the marriage, which, considering what type of people Sawamura and Suga are, it’s not surprising.

It’s gated off from the public, and placed in the farthest end of the park away from most other people. The guests are abundant, and they mill around the benches as they wait for the ceremony to start.

“Hey, hey, hey!” comes a shout from inside, and then there’s a blur of black and Tetsurou’s ribs are being cracked in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ouch- hey- Bokuto!” Tetsurou wheezes, and Bokuto releases him from his constrictor-like grip, grinning wildly. “Oh my god, dude, you finally got rid of that god awful-”

“Hey,” Bokuto protests, “You don’t have to be mean about it.” He runs his fingers, almost self-conciously, through his hair which is now completely dark, albeit still spiked up (old habits die hard, Tetsurou guesses).

“Hello, Kuroo-san, Kenma.” Akaashi comes up behind Bokuto and nods in greeting. He looks mostly the same, maybe a bit older, more mature, with more experience under his metaphorical wings, but he hasn’t lost the composed, regal aura that surrounds him.

“Hi,” says Kenma.

“It’s been so long,” Bokuto says despairingly.

“Yeah, well.” Tetsurou rolls his eyes and claps Bokuto’s shoulders. “You haven’t invited us over, even though you promised.”

“I will,” Bokuto says petulantly. “We haven’t settled down yet. Plus, when do you guys have the time for that?”

“That’s true,” Tetsurou admits.

“We should take our seats,” Kenma points out. “The ceremony’s going to start soon.”

They all nod in assent and go into the venue, where they take a seat next to two guys that Tetsurou vaguely remembers from Karasuno- the loud libero and the even louder bald guy. They don’t exchange greetings, because it seems like those two are already tearing up and Tetsurou finds it too amusing to interrupt their proud sniffles.

The ceremony starts not long after they sit down. Suga gets walked in first, escorted by his mother who looks like she’s cried a river already. He waits under the floral arch as Sawamura walks in after him, also escorted by his mother, and the couple wears matching smiles, having eyes for nothing but each other. Tetsurou is fairly certain that he sees Suga wink at Sawamura before the latter joins him under the arch.

Their best man- another former teammate of Karasuno, the scary-looking ace- starts crying before the wedding officiant can even start speaking. It would be funny if it wasn’t so heartwarming, and Tetsurou can feel love radiating out of every person and every corner of this wedding.

It’s nothing compared to when the vows are said. The soft look in Suga’s eyes could probably bring about world peace, Tetsurou thinks idly.

Bokuto cries in unison with the noisy pair from Karasuno.

Even Tetsurou, who considers himself to be unaffected by other people’s mushy gazes in order to maintain his reputation, finds himself blinking hard. He inhales slowly and tries not to smile too widely (even though Suga’s declaration of “Daichi, I’ve loved you ever since you nearly burnt our anniversary dinner because you were too busy staring at-” and Sawamura’s subsequent “KOUSHI!” makes that everyone laugh and some old people start).

When the newlywed couple kiss and Sawamura dips Suga dramatically, Suga’s face goes pink with laughter, the guests cheer, and Tetsurou smiles rubs at the corner of his eyes. A moment later, a smaller hand rests on top of his own and gives him a reassuring squeeze. Tetsurou whips his head around to glance at Kenma, but Kenma stares resolutely towards the front. His grip loosens, but their hands stay lightly pressed together, with no apparent intention to let go.

Tetsurou can’t concentrate for the rest of the ceremony.

The guests are herded into a reception hall just minutes away from the ceremony, located in the blossoming park, and Azumane Asahi gives a tearful speech regaling a rather humourous account of Suga and Sawamura’s first meeting in high school. He’s followed by Suga’s mother and Sawamura’s father, and then the buffet opens up and everything goes out of their minds as they pile their plates with food.

“This is all pretty beautiful, eh?” he murmurs to Kenma. Opposite of them, Bokuto slings an arm over Akaashi’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the latter’s ear.

“Mm,” Kenma replies affirmatively, a tiny smile curving at his lips. Satsfied, Tetsurou sits back.

When dinner ends and the dance floor is opened up, Suga and Sawamura step forward amidst loud cheers (and whistles from certain Karasuno alumni) and get ready to take the first dance.

On the surface, Suga and Sawamura may seem like an average, put-together couple, two textbook adults that are cookie-cutter in love and ready to live a peaceful life, a pediatrician-to-be and architect living side by side. Once you dig a bit deeper below the surface, they are two of the most unique people Tetsurou has ever met, and he’s best friends with _Bokuto._

It’s not that much of a surprise that their first song is upbeat and untraditional. They pull each other close, spinning and swaying in a rehearsed yet loose way, grinning and laughing and occasionally exchanging a brief kiss to the delight of some of their kouhai.

When the dance floor becomes available to the guests, Hinata comes up to Kenma and they strike up a conversation about some new video game. Tetsurou tries to keep himself from fidgeting impatiently until Bokuto drags him out on the dance floor and he loses himself for a while in the rhythm of the music.

Eventually, he extracts himself from the throng of people when the music slows down to a soft, romantic beat and Akaashi gives in to Bokuto’s longing looks.

He can see Hinata bobbing around someone who looks to be Kageyama, so he goes to find Kenma, who, as predicted, is sitting at the table alone, literally twiddling his thumbs.

“Hey,” he says, and slides into his seat. “No interest in dancing?”

He deserves the look Kenma gives him in return. He grins in response and leans closer. Kenma’s eyes flick to him but he doesn’t move away.

“Want to step outside?” he offers. “I don’t think anyone will mind.”

Kenma nods quickly. They stand up and weave through the tables, wincing every time a beam of light swings into their eyes. Tetsurou quietly slips out of the venue with Kenma following close behind him. The cool night air is a sharp contrast to the humid interior of the venue, fogged up with the breaths of a hundred people dancing and laughing.

“It’s not that it’s not nice,” Kenma speaks in a soft voice. They take lazy half-steps away from the building. Tetsurou’s hands grow warm in his pockets. “It’s just loud and…”

“It’s really crowded, yeah,” Tetsurou finishes for him. “It’s okay, I needed some fresh air anyway. Bokuto’s wild.”

Kenma casts him an amused look as Tetsurou attempts to salvage the mess that dancing made of his hair.

“Is there any point?” he says. “Your hair looks the same.”

Tetsurou presses a hand to his heart. “ _Kenma_. You wound me.”

They continue to pad away from the venue, and Tetsurou leads them under a nearby cherry blossom tree. The ground is blanketed with petals like snow, and one flutters down and lands on Kenma’s hair. Tetsurou reaches over and flicks it off with a half-smile etched on his face.

They lean against the tree trunk. Everything is silent except for the rustle of tree branches and the muffled thump of music from inside the venue.

Kenma’s eyes glow silver underneath the moonlight that slices through the tree branches. Tetsurou’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Kenma,” he murmurs, but stops himself. What would he say? He has no elaborate confession planned out, he doesn’t even have the courage to hint at it. For all his provocations, for his strategic volleyball plays and “aha!” moments in the lab, he likes to maintain the status quo. Especially when it comes to things like this, someone like Kenma, whom Tetsurou holds to be higher than anyone.

“What?” Kenma asks. Tetsurou swallows and hopes that it gets covered up by the shadow of a branch.

“Nothing, sorry,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he’s whispering. There’s no reason to stay silent.

“What?” Kenma repeats more insistently. Tetsurou knows that he’s been caught; things like that don’t get past Kenma. _Definitely_ not when it comes Tetsurou. “Kuro.”

That was The Tone, the voice Kenma uses when he doesn’t want to ask again. It’s more than the voice he uses when he’s frustrated with Lev, it’s more than the voice he uses when he makes a scathing comment on one of his lazy classmates in a group project, and it makes Tetsurou’s chest go cold with dread.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“You’ve been acting weird.” Kenma fixes him with a hard stare. “And don’t give me excuses, something has been going on for _months_.”

 _It’s been going on for longer,_ Tetsurou wants to tell him, but he doesn’t because he’s a coward.

“What’s this about?” Kenma asks, and he’s really pushing it, Tetsurou realizes with a start. He can’t remember a time when Kenma had asked questions so determined to get an answer.

“Is this something about school? Or your friends? Me?” he adds in an uncertain voice, and it’s the tremor in “me” that jolts Tetsurou into reality, sends in brain into overdrive and screams,” _Do something_ ”.

“No,” Tetsurou chokes out. “No, Kenma, it’s just me, I promise, you didn’t do anything…”

 _You stole my heart,_ an obnoxious voice in Tetsurou’s conscience says. _That’s all._

“Then why…” Kenma’s eyes, so deep and intuitive, eyes that Tetsurou has seen and mapped for years upon years of his life, search his face, laced with worry and insecurity.

Tetsurou feels sick.

“It’s…” He breaks up, and _shit,_ his eyes sting as his vision goes blurry. He forces his head back and glares at the moon, determined against the universe to not cry.

“It’s just…I think I’m in love with you.” When the words leave his mouth, Tetsurou feels numb. There. He’s done it. He’s severed the most important relationship in his life. He’s impressed he managed to evade Kenma for this long.

Kenma falters. His eyes grow wide- whatever he had been expecting, this isn’t it.

Tetsurou lets out a bitter laugh. “No, that’s wrong. I know it. I have known it. For years, probably.”

Kenma is very, very still. He’s still looking at Tetsurou, but Tetsurou can’t bring himself to return the gaze. So he squints at the tallest branch he can find and pretends that he can’t feel the warmth trickle down his chin.

“I’m sorry, I guess,” he says finally. “If you find it weird, that’s…I understand. I can move out. I can…fuck, I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m sorry.” He runs his hands over his face. He wants to leave this damn wedding as soon as possible. He can’t stand the thought of going back to Suga and Sawamura staring at each other with pure love in their eyes when he can’t have the same.

“Kuro.”

Tetsurou looks back down. Kenma’s lips are set at a hard, thin line, his shoulders so tense that if Tetsurou were in any other situation, he would place his hands on them and tell Kenma to relax. He can’t tell if Kenma’s making his “determined” face or his “simmering angry” face. Most of Kenma’s faces look the same. They require detailed, pinpoint accuracy to tell them apart from one another. Accuracy that Tetsurou has, but his vision is too hindered for him to see anything, much less the tiny quirks in Kenma’s expression.

“What?” he asks, when Kenma doesn’t continue.

“You don’t…it’s not…” His hands move helplessly, and Tetsurou wishes for the first time in his life that Kenma was better with words so that he could understand what the fuck was going on.

Kenma makes a frustrated noise, vaguely like an angry cat, and grabs Tetsurou’s tie, pulling him forward until their lips collide.

Tetsurou gasps into his mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even think he has the ability to pull away if he wanted. All his sensations are focused on the feel of Kenma’s lips, soft but insistent against his, the feel of Kenma’s knuckles brushing Tetsurou’s neck.

He can’t pull away, but neither of them wants him to, so he puts his hands on Kenma’s waist and drags him closer until they’re fitted perfectly against each other, deepening the kiss so that Kenma sighs softly.

They break away when they run out of oxygen, panting for breath but not taking their hands off each other. Tetsurou has never seen Kenma look so intense, not when it comes to other people, and it feels like his heart has shattered and yet swelled like a balloon all at one time.

“Kenma.”

“Kuro.”

“You…that better not have been just because you felt obliged to,” Tetsurou says. He feels like he should say it, just to be clear that Kenma has no reason to do anything if he doesn’t want to.

Kenma gives him such an offended look that he almost steps back, except he kind of never wants to not be right by Kenma’s side ever again.

“Kenma,” he says, like the word is a gem, some fascinating, rare discovery that could be seen just by Tetsurou. “Fuck, _Kenma_.” He pulls Kenma into a hug and Kenma buries his face into Tetsurou’s chest with a muffled noise of half-hearted protest.

“Kuro.” Kenma pulls away, but one hand remains gripped around the hem of Tetsurou’s jacket and his cheeks are flushed pink like the cherry blossoms.

“Kenma,” Tetsurou replies seriously. “I love you.”

Kenma blushes harder and buries his face in his hands.

.

.

Over the next month, all of Kenma’s stuff slowly migrates into Tetsurou’s room, an unspoken decision resting between them. Neither of them mentions it, but it’s the natural course of things, and by the second month, their relationship is second nature to them.

Tetsurou and Kenma visit Akaashi and Bokuto during Tetsurou’s week off. They have a cozy, contemporary apartment that overlooks a wide street, and a shelf full of random knickknacks they’ve picked up over the past year and a half. Akaashi lets slip their plan to maybe adopt a child in the next few years and Tetsurou wants to squeal (instead, he jokes that they better name the child after him. Akaashi rolls his eyes in unison with Kenma).

They work up the courage to tell their parents a year into their relationship. Neither one of their mothers are surprised.

Two years later, Tetsurou finishes his masters and Kenma’s been promoted. They move into a slightly larger apartment with a proper master bedroom. Tetsurou gets a job at a lab and starts to work on his PhD. They adopt an orange cat, which Tetsurou names, to Kenma’s chagrin and very slight amusement, Tora.

Bokuto and Akaashi adopt an eight-month old girl named Emiko and Tetsurou does not tear up in pride for the people he still considers his two best friends.

Tetsurou’s mother asks him, at least once every two months: “What are you planning to do for the future?”

.

.

Tetsurou never really gets to speak to Hinata one-one-one, since he’s more Kenma’s friend and only Tetsurou’s friend by association. The few opportunities he has had to do so have always resulted in interesting conversations, and really, Hinata is a case study of a human being.

“Hinata and Kageyama will be in Tokyo for a few days,” Kenma tells him as Tetsurou drives them home from lunch date, a luxury saved for their few overlapping days off. “Can they stay at our place?”

“Sure,” Tetsurou agrees easily. They might pose a slight kitchen hazard, but it’ll be a fun few days nevertheless.

Hinata and Kageyama arrive during the first week of August. Hinata practically climbs Kenma when leaping to hug him, and Kageyama shakes Tetsurou’s hand firmly. He looks more comfortable in his skin than Tetsurou had ever seen him as a teenager. He supposes there’s a certain level of confidence to be gained when you’re an Olympics-class setter.

“We’ve been travelling so much, we thought we should take a break from Tokyo, so we went back to Sendai, but then, well,” Hinata explains in rapid fire speech. Kageyama looks content to let Hinata do the talking, simply sitting back, arm pressed against Hinata’s side. “We went to see Suga-san and Daichi-san first, and then Nishinoya and Asahi-san’s, we even saw Tsukishima—”

“Hinata,” Kageyama says.

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata grins and flashes the silver band on his left hand. “We got married.”

Kenma chokes on his water. Tetsurou thumps his back.

“That’s…wow.” Tetsurou struggles for words while Kenma struggles for breath. “It’s really, uh.”

“Sudden,” Kageyama finishes for Tetsurou.

“When?” Kenma asks, wide-eyed. He’s not displeased, Tetsurou knows, but he isn’t the smoothest when reacting to surprises.

“As soon as we settled down in Sendai.” Hinata’s lips are stretched wide in glee. “We never—we always meant to, but it got pushed back, you know, with all our stuff going on.” _Stuff_ meaning the Olympics. Tetsurou was friends-by-association with celebrities of the sports world. “We had time and it just made sense, you know?”

“So, this needs celebration?” Tetsurou stands and weaves his way into the kitchen. “Pop some champagne?”

“We don’t have champagne,” Kenma points out.

Tetsurou settles for a half-full margherita mix. He sits back with his drink, held in one hand with the other arm stretched on the couch over Kenma’s shoulders. Hinata practically downs his drink, while Kenma sips at it gingerly, and Tetsurou wonders whether he should be worried about the effects of Hinata’s combined sugar and alcohol intake.

“To your happy ever after,” Tetsurou toasts. Kageyama looks mildly embarrassed but raises his glass all the same.

“Married life is great,” Hinata says. He sets down an emptied glass and sits with his legs folded under him. “The _tax benefits_ —”

Kageyama snorts and shoves Hinata with his shoulders. “You don’t know shit about taxes.”

“No, but I’m sure Kazama-san—our accountant—appreciates it. But it is great,” Hinata adds, tugging a piece of Kageyama’s hair. Kageyama bats Hinata’s hand away but clasps it in his own.

“I’m happy for you,” Kenma says, untheatrically, but sincerity radiates through his words. Kageyama’s face softens by a fraction, into what Tetsurou believes is an expression of gratitude.

“What about you two?” Hinata asks, unsubtly snatching Kageyama’s drink. “Any marriage plans?”

Kenma freezes at Tetsurou’s side; Tetsurou himself isn’t often lost for words, but he can’t think of what to say.

“Shouyou,” Kageyama hisses.

“Sorry,” Hinata backtracks hastily. “I didn’t realize—”

“It’s okay,” Kenma says quickly, which is how Tetsurou knows he’s flustered. “I just—I haven’t thought about it, much.” His tone is evasive, making his fib obvious enough to Tetsurou that he knows Kenma isn’t trying to lie to him.

“We just never really brought it up,” Tetsurou says, which is truth enough. _He’s_ thought about it plenty, courtesy of his years of pining as well as his mother, but that didn’t make it any easier to talk about it with Kenma. He knew what he wanted to say, knew what he would ask, but despite how well he knew Kenma, he couldn’t guarantee that Kenma’s answer wouldn’t be _no_.

“That’s okay,” Hinata says, and he sounds guilty enough that Tetsurou can’t get irritated at him for bringing up an awkward topic. “It’s normal to not want to.”

“That’s not really…” Tetsurou trails off, aware of Kenma’s impassive silence next to him. He doesn’t want to say anything, not if Kenma firmly has no interest in marriage. Now really isn’t the time to run his mouth.

His eyes meet Kenma’s, and they both look away quickly, discomfort simmering in the air.

Tetsurou laughs awkwardly and loudly enough to break everyone’s attention on the uncertainty in the room. “We should figure out what’s for dinner. There’s this great takeout place…”

They quickly leap onto this new topic of conversation, and by the time the debate on the dinner menu is over, any visible unease is long gone. That doesn’t stop Tetsurou from running scenarios over in his head—Kenma’s indifferent answer all those years ago after Bokuto and Akaashi’s wedding celebration, Tetsurou’s childhood wedding fantasies, his mother’s not-so-subtle questioning whenever they pass a jeweler. He wonders if he’s only imagining that Kenma’s silence is more ponderous than usual. 

They don’t talk about it after Hinata and Kageyama knock out in the guest room and they’re left lounging on their bed, Kenma’s fingers running through Tetsurou’s hair. Tetsurou pushes it to the back of his mind, because the future was uncertain, and marriage is big and scary and uncertain, but he has this, now, and he isn’t going to lose it, no matter what else.

Still, it lingers on his mind when Hinata drags Kageyama through the mall, hand-in-hand, wedding bands catching the light and twinkling. They’re not so much different than Kenma and Tetsurou—well, they’re very different from Kenma and Tetsurou, but their relationship has the same ease, the same trust, the same love and promise. It’s a trivial thing, Tetsurou thinks to himself, because his relationship isn’t demeaned by the lack of a legally binding contract.

But Hinata can triumphantly refer to Kageyama as his husband. What can Tetsurou call Kenma? Boyfriend? Best friend? Partner? None of those words can fully encompass what Kenma means to him, and it leaves Tetsurou in a flummox.

By the end of the week, they’ve toured their favorite nooks of Tokyo with Kageyama and Hinata, and it’s time to say farewell. Kageyama and Hinata board a bullet train to Osaka, intending to visit some kouhais they were close with, and they roll out of the station, Hinata waving at them furiously through a curving glass window.

Kenma drives the car back to their apartment. Tetsurou can’t bring himself to stop thinking.

That night, Tetsurou goes to bed. Kenma doesn’t join him immediately, caught up in a project that he was having some sort of breakthrough with. It’s maybe an hour or two later that Kenma slides under the covers, bathing Tetsurou’s side with him familiar warmth, and Tetsurou still isn’t asleep.

Kenma rolls over to face him. They’re close, hands pressed against the mattress side by side. Kenma blinks at him, his amber gaze travelling over Tetsurou’s face, picking out _something_ that he sees there.

“You’re thinking about the marriage thing,” Kenma says quietly.

Tetsurou swallows, not needing to answer affirmatively. He tries to convince himself that he will be happy with whatever the outcome of this discussion is, but he can still feel his pulse in his throat.

“You want to get married,” Kenma states.

“I know you’re not sure on it, and if you don’t want to, that’s fine.” The words burst out of Tetsurou without permission or second thought, and they’re partial lies but it’s of utmost importance that Kenma knows Tetsurou doesn’t expect anything from him. “You don’t mean any less to me no matter what our title is, and it’s a whole process, I get that it’s not your thing.”

Kenma lets him speak, just listening, processing the words. He rolls onto his back, facing the ceiling, and speaks, “It’s true that it’s a big process. There’s a lot of legal things involved, and it’s so…public. It’d be stamped onto our existence in society. Once you get married, it’s like it’s for everyone to know.”

Tetsurou is belted with a swell of warmth in his chest, because Kenma is here, talking to him. He knows Kenma’s difficulty with words, knows how much Kenma relies on Tetsurou’s intuition to know what he means, and so it means _everything_ , that Kenma is initiating the conversation and laying out his thoughts openly for Tetsurou to see. He knows, then, with absolute certainty, that he wants to marry Kenma, and will love him all the same if Kenma doesn’t want to.

“We don’t have to,” Tetsurou says, quietly. “This—us—is all I need.”

Kenma rolls again, so he’s facing Tetsurou. His eyes practically glow in the dark.

“I think we should do it,” he says.

Tetsurou blinks and takes a beat. Then another. “Wait what?”

Through the shadows, Tetsurou can still see the faint blush on Kenma’s face, but Kenma continues, jaw set and gaze straight, “We should get married.”

Tetsurou can’t breathe properly. “Not if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

Kenma laces his hand through Tetsurou’s, a warm, steady weight. “You want to. That means more to me, above anything else. And I…want the right to you. We make our own team and I want the world to treat us like it.”

Tetsurou blinks hard. He is not crying. “Kenma…”

Kenma scoots over and presses a chaste but firm kiss to Tetsurou’s lips. His eyes are shining, and Tetsurou knows him well enough to feel a shock, seeing subtle anticipation swimming in Kenma’s eyes like that.

“Does this mean we’re fiancés now?” he asks, almost lightheadedly. They’re fiancés.

Kenma gives a small, pleased laugh, which is a yes.

They’re fiancés.

“I need to buy you a ring,” Tetsurou tells Kenma.

Kenma rolls his eyes and kisses Tetsurou again.

.

.

“I’m going to shit,” Tetsurou says into the mirror.

Akaashi gives him an irritated look, adjusting his hold on Emiko, who babbles and squints at Tetsurou.

“Sorry,” Tetsurou amends.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Akaashi says, “It’s basically just a houseparty.”

“Yeah, but I’m married, now,” Tetsurou replies, and his voice is hoarse. Akaashi is right, even though Tetsurou’s brain hasn’t gotten that memo. The only things that have changed are Tetsurou’s government files and the adornment on his left hand. “Bokuto’s giving a _speech_.”

Akaashi’s lips twitch.

There are footsteps, and Kenma pokes his head into the room. His brow is wrinkled, and he frowns at Tetsurou. “There are people here,” he asserts.

Tetsurou raises his hands in the air. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“I should find Koutarou,” Akaashi says. “Help him with his speech.”

Tetsurou claps Akaashi on the shoulder and then squishes Emiko’s cheek. Adjusting his tie, he reaches for Kenma’s hand so they can greet the guests together.

Akaashi had graciously lent them his family property, a traditional-looking, beachside house in Kyoto, and he has time off, thanks to a combination of nepotism and stellar work record. He and Bokuto have been here for the past week, helping Tetsurou and Kenma finalize their paperwork and set up an elegant but small celebration.

He walks into the main room, where already a handful of guests are milling around under a beaded chandelier. He spots Suga and Sawamura amongst them and pulls Kenma over.

“Tetsurou!” Suga throws his arms around Tetsurou and squeezes; Tetsurou chokes a little. Suga draws back and smiles his sparkling grin. “Congratulations,” he says warmly.

“The set-up is beautiful,” Sawamura said, glancing around. “It’s fitting for you two.”

Tetsurou grins and puts an arm around Kenma’s shoulder, drawing him close. “Nothing but the best for my husband.”

Kenma huffs in his grip, but Tetsurou doesn’t pretend to miss the faint pink on his cheeks. It sends a thrill down his spine, these subtle signs that Kenma feels as pleased as he is, and it assuages Tetsurou’s irrational anxieties about Kenma feeling obliged to sign a marriage contract. Kenma has never felt obliged to do a damn thing.

More guests trickle in. Yaku brings them his congratulations and Tetsurou doesn’t even tease him for being emotional. Lev is almost embarrassingly enthusiastic and Kenma hides by Akaashi a bit to recover his dignity. Hinata and Kageyama are predictably late despite swearing up and down that they were speeding at illegal extents, and Hinata is enamored by Emiko; Bokuto is more than happy to show her off.

His mother makes a beeline for him as soon as his parents arrive. Tetsurou is pulled into a warm embrace, and a moment later his father envelopes them both, cocooning Tetsurou like they did when he was a toddler and snuck into their bed, craving attention.

His mother pulls back and pats his cheek. Her eyes are watering and it’s like she’s _trying_ to set Tetsurou off. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Okaa-san,” Tetsurou says, unable to prevent the warm burn on his face.

“I was worried that I’d never see you as a married man, but I don’t think you could have done better for yourself,” his father says jokingly, and Tetsurou knows that he took the gay thing (which was mostly the Kenma thing) with less graceful understanding than his mother, even though neither of his parents will ever admit it. Tetsurou swallows down the lump that threatens to bubble in his throat.

His father’s face softens, and he puts his arm on Tetsurou’s shoulder. “We’re happy for you.”

Tetsurou needs an outlet, so he pulls his parents back into a hug, scrunching them together in his arms. His father wheezes as Tetsurou lets them go.

“It’s perfect for you,” his mother says. “You two always were attached at the hip.”

Tetsurou hums in agreement, and she continues, “Have you given thought to what’s next?” She gives him an unsettlingly sly look. “Kids, maybe?”

Tetsurou splutters. “ _Okaa-san!_ ”

She laughs. “I’m only pulling your leg. I trust you two to do what’s best for you.” She glances at Kenma, and Tetsurou does, too, to watch Kenma as he talks to Akaashi while letting Emiko clutch his thumb. His heart threatens to overflow.

“Sugawara-san!” his mother trills, and she sweeps off to greet Tetsurou’s friends. His father gives him another sincere smile and trails after her.

The guest list isn’t lengthy, but somehow Tetsurou still feels like it is an accomplishment to greet and converse with everyone before Bokuto calls, “Can everyone head to the dining hall for the reception dinner?” He’s dressed handsomely in a black suit and gaudy blue tie, and he seems to be flourishing in his role as Tetsurou’s best man and co-wedding planner. Tetsurou catches up to slip his hand through Kenma’s, feeling something inside him curl into place. Akaashi’s eyes sparkle at Bokuto, and as they pass through the doorframe, Emiko reaches for him; Akaashi hands her over and Bokuto carries her through the room like a bird puffing its feathers.

The dining tables are arranged so that there’s a long head table and several smaller tables curving around it, giving Tetsurou the vague aesthetic impression of a king sitting in his royal court. Tetsurou and Kenma sit at the middle of the head table, which is a compromise Kenma only _slightly_ reluctantly agreed to. Akaashi and Bokuto take seats on either side of them, and there’s a little highchair for Emiko that she doesn’t seem particularly interested in using. Their close relatives sit at the back of the room, watching over them and their guests with satisfied expressions, proudly representing their family legacies.

Bokuto rings a fork against a champagne flute, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Thank you,” he says with a bright smile, and launches into speech with a dramatic flair. “Today, we’re celebrating the union of my two bestest friends.” Bokuto raises a glass at Tetsurou, and Tetsurou returns the gesture. “I’ve known Tetsurou a long time and wherever he went, Kenma wasn’t far behind. If I bumped into Kenma, I knew that I’d see Tetsurou around. They’re…they’re two peas in a pod, a matching set. I’ve seen them play some badass volleyball, but they have a little team of their own.”

“I didn’t know, in high school, that they were destined for each other—” At that, Kenma blushes and ducks his head, letting his hair swing over his eyes like a curtain. “—but looking back. It’s obvious. Besides Keiji and I—” Bokuto winks at Akaashi, who rolls his eyes fondly. “—I’ve never seen two people who were so perfect for each other.”

Bokuto shuffles his feet, and his face squints into something more nervous. “I, um. I’ll keep this speech short because I’m not that great at this and I couldn’t have said this much without Keiji’s help, but.” He turns his wide, golden eyes on Tetsurou and Kenma, and his tone dips into seriousness. “You two taught me that love can withstand time. Even when you weren’t together, your relationship inspired me to be a better friend, a better partner. I mean, sure, seeing you two together would make any single person explode with envy, but you’re living proof of the meaning of best friends. And soulmates. So thank you for showing me that.”

“You’re now, like, officially meant to be together forever, but for Tetsurou and Kenma, forever was always written in the stars.”

Bokuto sits down, catching Tetsurou’s eyes, looking impressed with his own spontaneous poetry. Tetsurou claps for his best friend, and his cheeks hurt from smiling and his eyes feel suspiciously like they’ve been dipped in seawater. Next to him, Akaashi is practically vibrating with pride, a combination of love and “ _that’s my man”_ sort of feelings.

Kenma looks at Tetsurou, and his eyes sparkle like crystals of amber.

“Oi, Bokuto.” Tetsurou rubs at his eyes until Kenma gently smacks his hand down. “That was deep as shit.”

Bokuto grins sheepishly. “Thanks. I just said what I meant, you know?”

“No,” Tetsurou sniffles.

Bokuto frowns. “And don’t curse in front of the baby.”

Tetsurou directs his apology at Akaashi, and for his penance, he is tasked with bouncing Emiko on his lap.

There’s a clearing of throat across the room, and conversation hushes as Kenma’s mother stands. She ducks her head, but says, “I want to say some words.”

Kenma’s surprise mirrors Tetsurou’s own; Kenma’s mother is a small, unassuming woman, and she takes full advantage of it, an expert at blending into crowds and staying out of unnecessary confrontation. Kenma was a chip off the old block. For his mother to actively request public speaking is about as shocking as Kenma expressing the desire to give a tap dance performance.

Bokuto smiles at her, which seems to embolden her. Tetsurou watches her, this woman, practically his second mother, who he’s known for most of his life, and tries his best to convey reassurance and encouragement. 

“I’ve known Tetsurou since he was eight, and from the very first moment, he was by Kenma’s side.” Her voice is tremulous but brave, and her gaze pierces Tetsurou, her eyes so very like her son’s. “He’s always been such a good, smart kid, and he became like a second son to me.” She smiles and Tetsurou’s heart glows. “I’m glad I can properly welcome him into our family, at last.”

And fuck, if Tetsurou doesn’t cry at that.

Kenma, expression flustered but eyes glimmering, manages to pacify Tetsurou in time for them to enjoy a beautifully tailored meal, courtesy of Akaashi pulling strings with his contacts. The night is wrapped up with warm festivity, dessert wine, and a more tears lightly shed. Their friends imbibe alcohol and Tetsurou watches the spectacle of Lev whirling Yaku around the dance floor. He’s pretty sure he sees two of his lab friends sneak into the bathroom while wrapped around each other and forces himself not to think about it. Suga gets giggly and blushy and pulls Tetsurou into a fumblingly awkward dance that leaves them both in tears of mirth before Sawamura swoops in to steal his husband away. It’s a new day by the time guests leave, leaving Tetsurou’s body worn out but chest full of buttery happiness.

Bokuto and Akaashi slip out with quiet goodbyes and “see you tomorrow”s, and Tetsurou doesn’t want them feeling obliged to leave their own place but he’s grateful all the same. Tetsurou and Kenma retreat to the upper floor of the house where their guest bedroom lies with the promise of hours of cleaning and a train ride home when they wake. The front door falls shut, and the halls lays quiet. 

The bedroom is bathed in warm, amber light, and the full moon pours in quicksilver from the uncovered window. Kenma closes the door behind him, and they dig through the suitcase for their into night clothes, though Tetsurou doesn’t think he’s in any state to relax into sleep.

When Tetsurou is changed, he sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, so that he is shorter than Kenma.

Kenma steps closer to him, his brow arched questioningly. Tetsurou holds out his arms, and Kenma walks forward so that Tetsurou can slip his hands around Kenma’s waist and draw him close enough that Tetsurou’s hair tickles Kenma’s chin.

“Hm?” Kenma asks, and pushes a hand through Tetsurou’s hair, curling it around Tetsurou’s ear. Tetsurou looks up at him, meets his gaze.

“Husband,” Tetsurou says, as if in greeting.

“Husband,” Kenma replies solemnly, though his eyes glint with amusement.

They stand there, watching each other in comfortable silence, Tetsurou’s arms wrapped around Kenma’s midsection and Kenma stroking Tetsurou’s hair back. The moon is reflected in Kenma’s eyes.

They stand there, basking in each other’s presence. It bridges to a memory from high school, when they’d do the same, just lie next to each other on one of their beds after a tiring practice, still aside from the sound of their breathing. Tetsurou thinks that it is the most natural thing in the world, for them to end up here, promised to each other, loving each other. Tetsurou had known since the start that Kenma was something special, and Tetsurou can’t see any alternatives to falling in love with him.

It has always been them two, and it will always be them two. Tetsurou sees their future yawning in front of them, and it makes sense.

“I love you,” Tetsurou whispers to Kenma.

Kenma closes the gap between them and gently but firmly pushes Tetsurou into the mattress, in lieu of response. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, comments/kudos are appreciated. I hope you and your families are doing well, and that this brought you some joy, warmth, comfort, etc, during this shitshow of a plague.
> 
> You can contact me on twitter @killjoycatlady_ as well as on tumblr @killjoycatlady


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